


Seasonal Trees

by EssayOfThoughts



Series: MCU Maximoff Oneshots [174]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/M, Fluff, Jewish Wanda Maximoff, Kindly Strangers, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 06:42:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16908087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EssayOfThoughts/pseuds/EssayOfThoughts
Summary: “Take the tree,” Wanda - apparently - says. “We don’t need it.It’s not like we celebrate Christmas, Pietro.”The last is matched with a severe glare. “Pietro only wants it to wind up Father.”Vision feels a smile spreading across his face. “Tony likewise,” he says. “We already have a tree at home; why he wants another-”





	Seasonal Trees

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the second of the [Alternate Universe Scarlet Vision Christmas Prompts](https://alternateuniversescarletvision.tumblr.com/post/180867437862/christmas-prompt-2). To quote: _Wanda and Vision meet in an argument over the last six foot Christmas tree in the store._
> 
> This one feels clunkier than the [Last](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16820848). Or, maybe I'm just not as good at fluff.

Vision finally finds his brother outside the store and in the midst of the stand for the trees, in a shouting match with someone a foot taller than him. Thank God he’d gone with Tony: being so short, his brother’s all bark and no bite. Its Ultron who’ll bite and thankfully  _ that _ brother isn’t due back until tomorrow.

“Pietro-” says the girl clinging to the arm of the other half of the argument. “Leave it. It’s not as though we need a tree.”

“Yeah, listen to your girlfriend,” sneers Tony. “Give up already.”

“I’m his  _ sister,” _ the girl spits. “And if you’re going to be like that, you’re only going to encourage him.”

Vision thinks it’s probably time to step in.

“Tony,” he says, clapping a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Come on. Either buy the tree or go somewhere else. I’m not getting you out of trouble if you get in a fight again.” Tony turns, glares, seethes, but is quiet, so Vision takes the chance to turn to the girl and her brother. “I apologise for my brother’s behaviour,” he says. “He tends to let his tongue run away with him.”

“So does mine,” the girl says.

“Wanda-”

The man - Pietro, Vision thinks she said - is sharply cut off by an elbow to the ribs. 

“Take the tree,” Wanda - apparently - says. “We don’t need it. It’s  _ not like we celebrate Christmas, Pietro.” _ The last is matched with a severe glare. “Pietro only wants it to wind up Father.”

Vision feels a smile spreading across his face. “Tony likewise,” he says. “We already have a tree at home; why he wants another-”

“Second living room, Vision,” Tony interjects. “Two trees! Twice the fun, little brother.”

Vision gently cuffs his brother’s head.

“Again,” he says, smiling, “I apologise.”

 

* * *

 

He sees the girl, Wanda, again two days later, when returning to the shop for some wrapping paper. He’s rounding a bend as he heads towards the tills, when he almost walks right into another person going the same way.

“Oh!” she says, clearly startled. “Its you!”

It takes Vision a moment to place her, but she looks much the same - a long fall of slightly curling dark brown hair, dark eyes that flash green in the fluorescence of the shop’s lights.

“It’s Wanda,” he says, “Yes?”

Is she…  _ blushing? _ “Yes,” she says. “And you’re Vision, right? Did you and your brother manage to get the tree home all right?”

“Yes,” he says, “And yes. Tony spent three hours decorating it before Dad got home.”

She smiles, and starts walking towards the tills, gesturing for him to walk with her. “Sounds like he had fun.”

“It’s a nightmare,” Vision says, fishing out his phone, finding his photos and scrolling to a picture he took of the tree. “Here.”

It’s a red-gold-green-blue-silver monstrosity, all the tree’s branches decked out in tinsel and baubles, and looks like it was decorated by a five year old on Red Bull.

Wanda snorts, covers her mouth, and then outright laughs. “That’s amazing,” she says. “How did your father take it?”

“Well,” Vision says, taking his phone back. “Mostly okay. But it annoyed our other brother instead, so I think it worked out well.” He glances down at Wanda’s basket - it’s mostly jars of spices: nutmeg, cinnamon, allspice, paprika, galangal. His own is three rolls of wrapping paper an assortment of ribbons and some new scissors - it was the last that was the worst to find.

They pass through the tills quickly, and Vision finds himself lingering by the doors as Wanda packs the  last of her things away into a fabric bag pulled out of her pocket. Vision reminds himself he really should start carrying his own reusable bags rather than using plastic ones.

She looks startled to see him waiting, and he steps a little to one side, to give her space. He doesn’t want to be creepy, after all, but she, like him, seems to be a Sensible Sibling and he’s not met many others.

“Did-” he starts. Then pauses, reconsiders, and asks anyway when he sees she’s watching him curiously. “Your brother wanted a tree. Did you end up getting one?”

Wanda shakes her head. “No. But Pietro did get a glittery Santa and hid it in Father’s study. I don’t think Father’s noticed yet, or, if he has, he’s not rising to it.”

“So you don’t celebrate?” 

She glances at him. “We’re Jewish,” she says by way of answer. “Pietro just likes to wind up Father.”

“Oh,” Vision says. “I’m sorry. Happy… Hanukkah?”

They’re halfway across the carpark when Vision stops to pull out his keys. Wanda looks set to keep walking, out of the carpark and towards the bus stop.

The clouds are looking pretty ominous.

“Would you like a lift?” he asks, unlocking his car. “I mean, if we’re headed in roughly the same direction-”

She looks wary. Vision doesn’t blame her. They may live in a low-crime area, but anyone should be wary of getting in a stranger’s car. “Are you passing by the war memorial?” she asks eventually.

That’s not too far from the turning to home and he nods. “I can drop you there if you want,” he offers.

The smile Wanda gives him is breathtaking. “I’d like that.”

 

* * *

 

It’s not a long drive, but it is one with a lot of talking. Wanda ends up fishing out her phone and plugging it into the radio when he says he’s never even heard of Hanukkah songs and she sings along in a tentative voice after a little while - it’s clear she knows these songs by heart.

There is, as always, space by the war memorial. There’s no parking spaces in front of it, just some yellow lines, but no one ever dares to block it in. Probably, Vision knows, the reason its so popular for people picking up and dropping off friends. Wanda’s already got her seatbelt undone by the time he hits the brakes, but she holds her hand out to him before going all the same.

“Phone?” she asks, and, fumbling, he hands his over.

When she passes it back there’s a new entry under his contacts.

“Text me,” she says, smiling. “I’ll need the distraction if Father and Pietro end up at each other’s throats.”

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments!


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